You Are Not Alone
by Sarah36396
Summary: My Budapest story for Clint and Natasha. When armed Rebels take over the town of Budapest and destroy a US Military Base, SHIELD sends in its best to end the problem and free the town. The two lone agents must learn to work together or risk getting themselves killed while butting heads. Chapter 7 is up. Rated for language and later themes...
1. I Work Alone

**This is my story that I have came up with for Budapest- I have done a little research on the actual place and that is what I have come up with. So no flames- this is a fanfiction after all :) First chapter will be introducing the story and situation. Excuse any OOC for now- Natasha is still at the point where she doesn't want anything to do with Clint, and boy is that hard to write. Drop a review and enjoy.  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters =/ Sad, I know.  
**

Natasha sighed as she lounged on the couch, her legs hanging over the arm rest. She carefully balanced the tube of red nail polish on her toned stomach, slowly pulling the tiny brush across the nail of her pinky finger. The TV was on in the background, the news reporters rambling on and on about the worlds problems. The washer and dryer added more noise to the mix, the sounds blending together in one relaxing sound. Days like this made Natasha feel almost normal...Until she remembered she was suspended from duty.

She carefully dipped the tiny brush in the polish before dragging it across another nail, applying an even coat before moving onto the next. The house was spotless, thanks to Fury temporarily banning her from duty. She had been trapped inside for nearly a week now, unable to go on any missions or leave her base housing. She had spent her time cleaning, watching old movies, drawing, and pampering herself- anything than thinking about what she had actually done. She didn't regret her actions and hoped Fury would learn a lesson from this whole mess.

Natasha let out an irritated huff as her phone began vibrating against her side and she gingerly tapped the answer button before putting it on speaker. "What do you want Fury?" She asked in surly tone, examining her hand to make sure she didn't smear any polish.

"Your suspension has been lifted, Agent Romanoff."

"And why is that? I had another week to relax," she tried to keep an annoyed tone, but she was relieved to be able to get back to work. She hated sitting around all day.

"Something has come up in the middle east and unfortunately we need another agent who excels in your area of expertise."

"Ah, so we are only letting me out of the dog house long enough to save someones ass?"

"Lose the tone Romanoff. You wouldn't be in the dog house if you could keep your temper under control."

"Oh, please," she rolled her eyes, screwing the cap on the nail polish. "You don't trust me, that is why I am here in the first place."

"No, you are there because you decided to punch your squad leader in the face! Then you defied a direct order and went in alone."

"Only because the idiot made a call that would have killed us all. And I have told you, I work alone. I do not play well with others," she rolled into a sitting position, sitting the polish on the table and bringing the phone to her ear.

"I don't care if he decided to make you all jump off a cliff- assault is assault. You are lucky you were only suspended. As for not playing well with others...you are going to have to get over that. There will be times when you are required to work on a team. You skills as an agent are incredible, now it is time to work on your people skills."

"I do not need people skills," she muttered. "Can we get back to the mission? I don't feel like discussing my few flaws."

"Sarcasm will get you no where."

"But it is more fun that way," she said in a surly tone, pulling her hair behind her shoulder.

"Enough. We have a situation in Budapest."

"What kind of situation?"

"As you know, there have been a lot of uprisings in the area lately and we deployed a large military force to aid the government against the rising rebels. Well, two nights ago our entire based was wiped out by an explosion and only a few men lived. The rebels have taken over the Buda Castle and several other key buildings in the area. We need to take out their leaders in order to scatter them."

"Sounds easy enough," she shrugged.

"Each leader is inside a key building. There is the Buda Castle, The Parliament Building, Saint Stephen's Basilica, and Greshman Palace."

"Only four targets?"

"There is more- we also need to recover several nuclear weapons that have been stored somewhere in the Buda Castle. Each area is heavily armed and the city has rebels all throughout it. It is a very dangerous situation and we need the best we can get."

"I am flattered," she smirked, standing up and stretching. "When do I leave?"

"We will have a flight ready for you and your partner this afternoon."

"Wait, what partner?" She narrowed her eyes.

"You said you don't play well with others- you'd better learn quick. This is to big of a mission for one person."

"I do not want to have to baby sit some idiot like Sanders," she growled.

"You won't have to! This is a season agent and a trusted friend. You _will_ learn to at least pretend to get along and work together."

"Fine," she snapped, not pleased with the situation. "Who is my partner?"

"You'll find out once you arrive. Good luck."

Natasha huffed as she ended the call, grinding her teeth together as she grabbed her bag and headed towards her room. It was bad enough Fury still didn't trust her, but now he was sticking her with some other fool? She had to hand it to the man- he knew how to get under her skin. With a sigh she began packing the essentials, not pleased at all. It was going to be one hell of a mission.

. . . . .

Clint let out a long yawn as he blinked the sleep away, casting a quick glance at his watch. Their flight left in half an hour and he had yet to see anyone else enter the airport. Fury had refused to tell him who he would be working with, but it didn't bug him too much- that was just Fury being Fury. He prefered to work solo, but he could work with a team if need be. That was part of the job.

With a sigh he stood up, stretching and popping his back before shouldering his bag. He glanced at the clock again before heading out to the plane; It wasn't his fault if the fool was late, he wouldn't have Fury crawling down his ass. He climbed the steps to the cabin, nodding towards the captain before pushing the curtain aside and entering the passenger area. It was set up much like a little office, complete with a kitchen, couch, and table.

Clint tossed his bag on the table and kept his back to the approaching person. "You are late."

"I am never late."

He raised an eyebrow, finding the voice to be female and slowly turned around. Natasha Romanoff once again stood in front of him, her arms crossed, lips pursed. Her red hair was pulled back, a gun holstered to each hip. Not much had changed since that night over a year ago, aside from her outift. She still appeared as cold and cunning as ever. "Well well well...Natasha Romanoff."

"Barton," she replied coolly, brushing past him and sitting her bag on the end of the couch. She hadn't seen him since he sparred her life and convinced her there was another way out of the personal hell she had gotten herself in to. Never before had she been lost for words, but none came to her at the moment so she sat down, pulling out a map of the city and spreading it out. "Have you been briefed?"

"Always straight to the point," he mused, sitting across from her. "Yes, I have been briefed."

"Good, so I won't have to try to explain. I've already done some research and I have a game plan."

"And who put you in charge?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I put myself in charge. Is that a problem?" She narrowed her eyes.

"Still sassy as ever," he chuckled slightly, pulling an arrow from the quiver that sat under the table and used it to point towards the Parliament Building. "If your majesty is open to suggestions, I was actually thinking this would be the best place to start."

"I think we should start at Stephan's Basilica. It is smaller."

"Which also means there will be more close quarter combat. Start easy then work out way up. We could hit the PB, then the SB and go from there. The castle and palace are going to be far more risky- there are far bigger and it will be easier to get separated."

"I for one can take care of myself."

"We are supposed to be a team."

"Only because Fury forced us into this, Barton. I know you like to work alone as well."

"Well, that isn't an option this time."

"Whatever," she frowned, crossing her arms. "So let's say we hit the Parliament Building first..what do you have in mind?"

"The most likely place the leader will be is in the meeting room- it will be easiest to set up a headquarters there. Now getting there could be a problem. There are plenty of open spaces for us, but that also means there will be more of a watch set up. I thought we could go in quietly through the back and work our way up, only taking down the necessary targets."

'Maybe he does have a clue,' Natasha thought to herself, thinking his plan over. "That actually sounds like it might work," she forced herself to say, the words tasting bitter. She didn't like following anyone's plan but her own and she sure as hell hated taking orders.

"It should. What do you have in mind for the SB?"

.

.

The next several hours flew by as the plane flew them closer to their destination and they discussed plans and strategies. The were going to touch down a safe distance from Budapest and enter the city by foot as discretely as possible. The last thing they needed was for the Rebels to suspect that something was up before they even got the mission started.

"So how has SHIELD been treating you?" Clint asked as he ran a his fingers over the black feathers on an arrow, trying to break the icy silence that had settled over them.

"Do you always try to make small talk?" She raised an eyebrow but kept her eyes shut as she leaned against the arm of the couch.

"No, not usually... But it is kind of my fault you are even here."

"You did the right thing," she shrugged, not willing to discuss how she felt about him sparring her. "I owe you one."

"I'll keep that in mind," he forced a chuckle.

"It is alright," she finally answered after a span of silence. "Fury doesn't really trust me...but who can blame him?"

"It just takes time. He didn't always trust me," Clint assured her. "I heard about you punching Sanders...he probably needed that. I hope you broke his nose."

"I did," her lips turned up slightly and Clint raised an eyebrow; that was the closet he had ever seen her to smiling.

"Good. I guess when we get to town we can try to find a hotel. Fury said to remain uncover and unknown for the first few days until we get accessed and planned out."

"I actually know of a good one," she opened her eyes with a sigh. "I've stayed there a few times."

"You'll be close to home, huh?"

"I do not have a home," she said coldly and the silence fell over them once more.

Clint gave up on talking, knowing she was done. The woman didn't share a whole lot and was still short and curt. That was fine with him. The only thing that bugged him was that he saw himself in her and for some reason that attracted him to her. He knew it was ridiculous, but he was still a guy, even if he was some kind of super spy. Not to mention she was drop dead gorgeous.

"We have landed," a voice said over the speakers. "Good luck Agents."

Clint sighed as he stood up, grabbing his bag and quiver, stepping out into the cool evening air. He took a deep breath as Natasha joined him and he scanned the horizon before taking his first step towards town. Their mission had begun, but how would it end?


	2. Street Fight

**Chapter** **2. Thanks for reading. Hope you are enjoying it so far. Will be some action in this chapter. Excuse any OOC still- Natasha is warming up to him. Things will be normal fairly soon.  
**

Clint frowned as he temporarily lost sight of Natasha in the heavy crowds. The streets were heavy with traffic, the cars all honking at one another, so the duo had decided to walk to the hotel. The sidewalks were still full of tourist and residents, despite the trouble in the city. Venders still lined the streets, trying to sell their merchandise to tourist and make a quick buck. He had done his best to keep her talking on the way to town and she was slowly starting to warm up to him, or at least he thought she was.

"There you are," Natasha said as she appeared at Clint's side once more, tightening her grip on her back pack. They had changed into casual clothes for their trip into town and she felt naked without her guns. "I can't believe how many people are still here."

"I know what you mean," Clint shook his head. "They are practically in a civil war, yet the tourist are still pouring in."

"Nothing attracts people like disaster," Natasha said thoughtfully. "That is our hotel," she pointed to a building that was a bit higher than the others. It boarded the river, the lights of the city reflecting off the rippling water.

"Wow," Clint chuckled. "Never stayed anywhere quite that nice."

"Oh really?" She arched an eyebrow. "I figured you'd be one for the high life."

"Nah," he shrugged. "I prefer to lay low. Going around and tossing out big bucks will get you noticed, not to mention I don't look the part."

"I see. So how are we going to do this?"

"Do what?"

"At the hotel- do you have a plan?"

"Why would I need one?"

"If we arrive together but buy two separate rooms there might be a problem. Not to mention there might not be two separate rooms at this point...the parking lot looks packed from here."

"So you think we should remain undercover for a while?"

"Yeah."

"Look at that, we finally agree on something."

"Baby steps," she said, almost smiling. "What do you propose then?"

"That," he grinned. "Would you allow me the honor of being your husband?" He bowed, grinning at her.

"Oh, stop it," she hit him on the arm, scolding him. "I am being serious."

"So am I. Why not do the whole happy married couple? Say we are on our honey moon- easy enough, right?"

"I suppose," she wrinkled her nose. "But you are sleeping on the couch."

"Yes dear."

Clint couldn't help but grin as she heaved a sigh, shaking her head and taking the lead once more. He was determined to get a smile on that pretty face if it killed him and from the look of things he would have a while to do it. Maybe he could get her to get in touch with her sense of humor- it would definitely make his life a little easier. Nothing could ever happen between them, but who said they couldn't be friends?

"Wwwoowww," Clint stopped inside the lobby of the hotel, turning in a slow circle. The ceilings were higher than any other he had scene, white marble columns lining a long red carpet that led to the reception desk. A marble fountain stood to the right, a little angel on top spitting water from his mouth. To the left was plush red furniture and a fire place. "Very, very nice."

"It'll do," she said dryly. He was acting like a kid in a candy shop.

"Ah,another young couple. What can I get for you today?" A man with a thick accent addressed them as they reached the front desk.

"I need a hotel room," Clint replied, pulling his wallet from his jeans.

"Obviously," the man said dryly. "I thought you wanted to order a burger and fries. What kind of room? And you pay afterwards."

"Uh," Clint shrugged. "What do you have?"

The man heaved a sigh before tapping on his keyboard then looking back to the man in front of him. "I have a regular room and a presidential suite open. Have you never stayed in a hotel?"

"Sorry, he hasn't really experienced the world yet," Natasha stepped in with a smile. "I plan to change that though," she gave Clint her best adoring look.

"Ah, getting married?" He chuckled.

"Just married," Clint found his voice again, temporarily distracted by Natasha.

"So the room..."

"Reg-"

"Presidential," Natasha cut him off. "We will take the presidential."

"Very well," he shrugged, filling in the information and handing them a room key. "Enjoy your stay and congratulations."

"Thank you," Natasha nodded to him before hesitantly slipping her hand into Clint's. "Let's go honey," the words felt foreign in her mouth and she wanted to spit.

"You are practically squirming," Clint muttered as they stepped onto the elevator, turning her hand loose.

"You hand was sweaty," she lied, wiping it on her own jeans before leaning against the wall, crossing her arms.

"Sure it was. Just admit it, you aren't good at that kind of stuff."

"Please," she rolled her eyes. "Obviously you haven't done much homework- my specialty is seducing men into giving me information," she batted her eyelashes at him.

"So you are like a super spy call girl?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Hey," she once again punched him in the bicep.

"Is that going to become a habit?" Clint questioned aloud, still smirking.

"Depends on if you make a habit of asking stupid questions."

"That sense of humor ALMOST poked its head out right there," he teased as the elevator continued to climb.

"Speaking of not being very good at things, that guy probably thought you lived in a barn."

"Maybe I did. I was raised by the roosters," a smile split his face.

"Ha," she finally gave him half a smile. "I can believe that."

"So close," he sighed, shaking his head.

"What was that?" She tiled her head.

"Oh, nothing," he replied casually as the elevator doors slid open.

They walked down the hall together towards the only other set of double doors on the floor. Natasha kept close to his side, her hand in his again as soon as she noticed the security camera's on the ceiling. She had done undercover work before, but never with a partner- this was only the fourth mission she had been on with another person involved and she was hoping it would end better than the last three.

"Here we are," Clint swiped the golden room card and pushed the heavy oak door open, letting Natasha enter before him. "Oh wow," a small chuckle escaped him as he stepped into the room. "This is practically a house."

"Exactly," Natasha shrugged. "Kitchen, dining room, a master bedroom. The living room has a full entertainment system, there is a full bathroom and a huge balcony. Have you honestly never stayed anywhere this nice?"

"Nope. Nicest place I've stayed in was a Hampton Inn suite. It was nice, but nothing like that."

"What a shame," she shook her head.

"And what about you? Are you always this high class?"

"You'd better believe it," she replied, tossing her bag onto the couch and stretching. "Want the shower first?"

"Holy hell...Is that an Xbox?" Clint rubbed his hands together. "No, you go ahead and shower..."

"You are such a guy," she rolled her eyes, reclaiming her bag and heading towards the bathroom.

Clint grabbed a controller from the wooden entertainment stand, flipped on the tv and game system, then began thumbing through the various games in long drawer. "Oooh, Modern Warfare 3, Battlefield, and Black Ops..I might have to pull an all nighter," he said aloud to himself, putting in a game and flopping onto the couch. He could definitely get used to the high end life style.

.

.

"Finally got off that thing?" Natasha asked sleepily as she rolled into a sitting position, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Yeah, sorry for waking you up," he apologized, running a towel through his damp hair. "Just wanted to shower before I hit the sack."

"You are fine," she shrugged, averting her eyes from his bare torso...his bare, toned torso. "There is an extra blanket in the closet if you need it."

"Nah, I am good. I will take this though," he tugged a pillow out from under her head with a grin, shutting the door behind him.

"Jerk," she muttered, reaching for another pillow and tucking it back under her head with a yawn.

Clint tossed the pillow onto the couch, pulling on an old t-shirt before flopping down on his temporary bed, taking a deep breath as he tried to calm his thoughts. Instead he caught the smell of Natasha's shampoo and sighed, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes again. His breathing slowed as well as his thoughts, and soon he was asleep.

. . . . .

"You look like hell," Natasha frowned as Clint took a seat across from her the next morning, pouring himself a cup of coffee. His hair stuck out at various angles, his eyes drooping.

"I feel like hell," he muttered, taking a long drink of coffee. "I fell off that couch about six times last night."

Natasha hid a smile and snickered, taking a bite of toast to cover it. "Sorry."

"Are you laughing at me?"

"Maybe," she shrugged. "Not my fault you can't sleep without flopping all over the place."

"Comparing me to a fish?"

"No, the smell isn't quite right. I'll take the couch tonight, if you want. Since I am smaller."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Don't need you beating yourself up- that is the bad guys job."

"Thanks," he sighed, leaning back in his chair and peeling a banana. "So what are we doing today?"

"I figured we could go sight seeing...Scope out the best paths to and from our targets."

"Sounds good to me. I for one hate just sitting inside."

"Me too. Look, something else we agree on."

"Baby steps," he echoed her previous statement from the night before.

"Exactly."

.

.

"Seems busier at night huh?" Clint stretched as they walked down the less crowded side walk, trying to read the jumbled map he held in his hands.

"Everyone parties at night and sleeps it off during the day," Natasha shrugged. "It is like that in most big cities. We turn here," she added.

"You know your way around huh?"

"Of course. I've been here on several occasions."

"I see. Know anything valuable that might help us?"

"Aside from the crowds, no."

"Easier to ditch the goons huh?" He asked under his breath as an arm rebel passed them,patrolling his area.

"Exactly. Next turn on the left leads to the building. It will probably be blocked off, but it is worth a shot."

Sure enough as soon as they turned onto the road two armed rebels stopped them. "No entry permitted beyond this point!" One barked.

"Oh, sorry," Natasha said casually. "We were just exploring the city. We are only here for a short while, do you know when the building will be re-opened?"

"No, I don't. Get a movin'," he nudged her with the butt of his gun.

"Don't touch my wife, Mister," Clint frowned.

"You have something to say buddy?" The soldiers partner asked, shoving Clint.

"Yeah, I do. You two pricks could use a lesson in manners."

"And your tramp would do well to pay attention," he grabbed her by the arm, yanking her around to face the no entry sign.

"I said don't touch her," Clint shoved him back, sending him sprawling on the pavement.

"Looking for a fight are you?" He pushed himself to his feet, tossing his gun aside and rolling up his sleeves.

"Let's teach this lad a lesson Steve."

"Yeah, let's."

"No," Clint barred Natasha's path as she stepped towards them. "I've got this," he sat his bag down before joining the two men in the middle of the street. "Fair warning boys, I am well trained."

"Aye, I am a shakin' in my boots lass," the Irish man taunted.

"You are going to be," Clint smirked, raising his arms in a defensive stance. "So, who wants to get their ass kicked first?"

"You," The Irish Man threw a hard punch straight towards Clint's head. He ducked, stepping inside his guard and kneed him in the gut before shoving him away.

"Have to be faster than that," he shook his head. The men were obviously untrained in hand-to-hand and he doubted they could shoot well. They were just two boys who were looking for power and promised a gun. "Bring your hands up," Clint smirked as the man caught a blow on his forearm. "There ya go, just like that," he casually side stepped a kick, delivering his own to the mans legs before shoving him out of the way. "You next," he pointed to the younger man.

"I am not as slow as the old man," Steve threw a punch, catching Clint in the stomach.

"Not enough power," Clint grunted, catching the kid in a headlock. "This is too easy," he sighed.

Natasha shook her head as she watched him, amused with the pathetic fighting skills of the two men. Most people would have been annoyed with the needless fight, but she had found herself in similar situations; it wasn't their fault they couldn't back away from a challenge. "Ouch," she winced as Clint pinned the mans arm behind his back, kicking him to his knees.

"Tell you what- two on one. Come on," Clint stepped away from them, holding his arms open wide. The two men blitzed him from both side and Clint jumped forward, causing them to collide. "Sorry boys," he delivered a few more punches inside their guard before tossing both against a wall. Steve was slumped over, groaning as he held his nose, blood running from between his fingers.

"Next time, don't touch my wife," he grinned at them, kicking a piece of trash their way before going to stand beside Natasha's side.

"Impressive," she said, lacing her hand through his as they strolled away from the pair. "You almost played that part too well," she said with a straight face once they were out of hearing range.

"Uh,um, I, uh," he frowned.

"I am kidding Barton, lighten up," she nudged him, turning his hand loose.

"Natasha Romanoff, kidding? No way."

"Oh, stop it!" She hit him in the arm.

"Hey, I thought that only happened when I asked a stupid question."

"That was never a rule," the corner of her mouth turned up in another half smile.

"We'd better make some rules then. I'd hate for Fury to think you are abusing me," he rubbed the spot of his arm.

"You'd let a woman beat you up?"

"Only you, because you could probably kick my ass," he admitted.

"Hmm, we will have to test that theory sometime."

"Long as it isn't to the death," he teased with a smile. "I like my job and I'd prefer to live a little longer."

"I wouldn't kill you. Only kick your ass. Promise," she smirked.

"I feel so relieved now," he laughed. "Tell you what, let's grab some lunch then we can see the Basilica.

"That sounds fine to me," she sighed. Even though she wouldn't admit it to him, she was actually having fun and didn't mind having him around. He was serious when he needed to be, but his sense of humor definitely made passing the time more bearable. Maybe having a partner wasn't that bad after all.


	3. See the Sights

**Chapter 3. Thanks for all the story and author subscriptions so far! And the reads of course. Please drop a review..your feedback will help me get chapters out quicker and improve the story. This story should run about 28 chapters-3 chapters a day, and I plan on them spending a week or so here, then there will be the conclusion and stuff. **

"I am so full," Clint groaned, dropping his head to the table.

"I bet you are," Natasha smirked, shaking her head as she finished her Turos Gombocz. "That meal was supposed to be for two. Are you going to be able to walk?"

"You might have to carry me."

"Not happening."

"It was worth a shot," he chuckled, stretching then groaning again. "I feel like a tick."

"Look like one too."

"Are you calling me fat?"

"Yes, I am. Because you are SO overweight," she rolled her eyes.

Clint just chuckled before sighing, looking around. They sat out on the dining pavilion outside a small restaurant. It was fairly quiet for the middle of the day, the traffic on the street easing down as people stopped for lunch. A few other couples sat around them chatting amongst themselves, watching the tourist walk by. A few boats drifted down the river and under the long bridge, making waves across the water.

"It is peaceful here..at least it is right now."

"That is what I was thinking," she leaned back with a sigh. "We were too late last night, but tonight I will take you over to the bridge. It is stunning,seeing the sunset. It is like there is a fire in the sky, then it fades to the twinkling lights. It is very pretty."

"Yeah, I bet it is," Clint kept his eyes on her, causing her to swallow and look away. "I didn't think you'd be into that kind of thing."

"Our line of work is so hectic and unpredictable...things like that are reliable; they will be there every night. I find it peaceful."

"I understand," he nodded. "I had just got in from a...business trip," he substituted as a rebel walked past, "when boss called me back in. I wasn't to thrilled about having a partner," he admitted. "But it is part of the job so I didn't complain."

"Kudos to you then. I chewed him out...I can't stand working with someone else," she wrinkled her nose.

"Sorry," he gave her an apologetic smile.

"It isn't your fault. Besides, You actually aren't THAT bad," she smirked at him.

"We've only been together for twenty four hours- I wouldn't say that quite yet," he teased.

"I'll keep that in mind," she yawned, standing up and stretching. "We'd best get going if we want to see the church."

"It is closed," a voice came from behind them. They turned to find a young couple seated behind them. "We tried earlier today. They roughed Scotty up a bit," the woman gave her husbands hand a squeeze and Clint noticed the man's black eye.

"Sorry," Clint frowned. "Maybe we can at least get a picture in front."

"Maybe, but I doubt it. They like to gang up on you," Scotty sighed. "Pathetic scum."

"I've already had a run in with them," Clint assured the man. "I took care of them both."

"Feel free to pummel the two guarding the road," Scotty chuckled.

"Will do. We'd best be going," Clint put he money he owed the restaurant on the table, grabbing his backpack and following Natasha back onto the streets.

"So apparently this guys like to fight," Natasha frowned.

"Of course they do. Most of them are barely old enough to be men. They got promised a gun and power, so they joined the wrong cause."

"It is pathetic, the lengths some will go to for power."

"It is, but it isn't always power that drives them. Love and family have brought some of them here; some have joined to ensure their loved ones safety. You see it in every war, in every battle."

"Love is for children," she said simply. "You let someone in and your enemy can use them against you. That is why I prefer to work alone."

"I agree with that, to an extent. Being alone all the time isn't always healthy. We all need someone."

"Except I don't have anyone," she muttered to herself. Clint heard it, but he let it slide, unwilling to push the subject. It sounded like she just needed a friend and even though he was horrible with people it couldn't hurt to try.

"So before you were transferred to our offices," Clint kept a careful eye out for the rebels, "how long had you been doing your previous work?"

"I don't know, years?" She shrugged. "I started at a fairly young age. It was a way to make money and I was good at it. And what about you, Superman?"

"Since I was a teenager. All it took was a few archery contest for our department to notice me. After that...well, you get the picture. I've never looked back...I had a friend from outside of work who asked me if I regretted it- she couldn't understand how I could be happy running around all over the world, doing what I do, being alone most of the time. I told her no. It is just who I am."

"There is a lot more to you than meets the eye," she admitted, tilting her head. "Next you are going to tell me you are a playboy."

"Who? Me? Yeah,right," he snorted. "More like a garbage boy."

"Oh, please," she rolled her eyes. "There is our street," she frowned, seeing the road block and the two soldiers in front of it. "Try not to get into a fight this time, ok?"

"Fine," Clint sighed, winking at her and draped an arm over her shoulders. They approached the road block and the soldier that was in front of the main barricade, ignoring the sign that said to turn back.

"No entry beyond this point,"the stocky man crossed his arms. "We've had our fair share of trouble today, so beat it."

"I am not looking for trouble, just a picture. We wanted to get one in front of the doors."

"Not happening."

"Aw. Come on man, it is our honeymoon. Have a little sympathy."

"I said to beat it."

"What about a picture from here then? Just for memories?"

"Am I going to have to make you leave?"

"Aw, come on. You have to have a woman or kid back home. Think of the memories- we just want to make a few."

"Fine, make it quick," he snapped, moving aside as Clint got a picture of the church. He tucked the camera back into his pocket, nodding towards the man. "Thanks."

"Get lost."

"Fine," Clint held up his hands in surrender as they walked off down the street, discretely looking for any side alleys as they walked.

"You handled that one a lot better," Natasha teased. "And now we have pictures of the entrance and windows."

"Exactly," he grinned. "We can catch the other two places after tomorrow. I thought we could do some real sight seeing now. I know there is other stuff that is open and I've never been here before. What do you say, want to be my tour guide?" He smiled.

"I guess I could play along, for a while," she tilted her head. "Let's get going."

.

.

"Thanks for showing me around," Clint yawned as he looked out over the water.

"No problem," Natasha shrugged, watching as the water started changing colors with the sinking sun. They had spent the remainder of the day touring the town and seeing the some of the more interesting but less popular sights. Clint had hung on her every word, fascinated by the city. As evening began to set in they had found themselves sitting on the ledge of the bridge that ran over the water below. The traffic behind them was fairly quiet, since more of the cars were already in the city.

"Wow," he murmured as the water took on the brilliant orange glow. It was as if someone had set fire to the river. "You were right."

"I usually am," she smirked, watching the sunset. "You know, you are a lot easier to talk to then I thought you'd be."

"We might be super spies, but we are also human, no matter how much we try to suppress it."

"Emotions get you killed," she said coldly. "I have to know...Why'd you let me live?" She turned to face him, her lips pursed. The question had been burning in her mind ever since that day and she wanted answers.

"Ask me some other time," he replied without looking at her.

"Why not now?"

"Just wait. I will tell you some other time," he promised.

"Fine," she frowned, looking back out over the water. "So what did we learn that was valuable today?"

"Well, we know that most of the rebels are civilians- a lot of them younger. They aren't very organized on the outside, but we know they are somewhat put together, considering they have taken over. I think getting in will be easy. After that it will be a little harder."

"I noticed several good routes to the Parliament Building- it wasn't built for defense, nor was the Basilica. Getting in will be easy, but the Basilica is going to be a little cramped. We will probably need more hand to hand combat. Apparently you can handle yourself just fine in that department."

"Hey, you took out my entire squad by hand that night, so I am not worried about you either. But I was thinking the same thing. Parliament Building will be better for stealth, which is more my speed."

"Yours and mine both," Natasha agreed. "By time we are done with those two our names our going to be on the map. They will expect an attack."

"Exactly. Which is why we should lay low for a few days after- give them time to relax and get comfortable again."

"Sounds good to me."

"Fury would be so proud," Clint chuckled.

"Hmm?"

"We are actually talking instead of trying to kill each other."

"Ah, I see."

"He checked in last night, told me he was reluctant to put me with you since we were so alike, figured we'd butt heads a lot."

"He wasn't exactly wrong," she pointed out with a yawn.

"But he wasn't right either. I'd say we are doing pretty good for a couple of hermits."

"That is one way to put it," she pursed her lips. "He was checking on me, right? Because he doesn't trust me?"

"I wouldn't take it personally," Clint shrugged. "I wasn't allowed on a solo mission for two years. He said I was "reckless, impulsive, and stubborner than a jack ass". He wasn't wrong either."

"I received a similar speech," she shook her head. "He likes to put things bluntly."

"Yeah, he does," Clint sighed, stretching before he crawled back over the ledge and onto the bridge. "We'd better head back. Tomorrow is going to be a long day."

"Yeah, we are," Natasha agreed, climbing over and joining him. They walked back across the bridge in silence and Natasha thought about tomorrows mission. They had no idea what was waiting for them on the inside-she hated going into a situation blind. She doubted it would be anything she couldn't handle and with Clint as backup it should be a piece of cake, but she still felt uneasy, an emotion she didn't welcome.

"You sure about sleeping on the couch?" Clint asked as they reached the hotel, walking through the quiet lobby.

"Positive," she shrugged. "I don't toss around so much."

"Thanks," he gave her an appreciative look as they stepped onto the elevator. "Tonight we sleep. Tomorrow, we party."


	4. Into The Unknown

**Chapter 4. Thanks for reading. PLEASE review and I can get chapters up quicker! Enjoy**

"This is...stupid," Clint muttered as he tried to yank his pants over damp flesh. They had stored their equipment in an alley near the Parliament building, since they couldn't stroll through town fully army. To Clint's dismay it had started to rain late in the afternoon and the walk to their meeting spot had left him wet and pissed. Thankfully their stuff had stayed dry, but it was proving a challenge to gear up due to his wet state and the darkness of night. His thoughts temporarily drifted to Natasha and her leather outfit and he smirked, hoping she was having just as much trouble as he was.

He yanked his vest into place, zipping it up and buckling all the buckles with a frown. "Stupid thing," he grunted as he jerked down on the thick vest and it finally fell into place. After securing the quiver of arrows on his back he stepped out from the abandoned door way, pulling out his bow and leaning against the wall, preparing to wait for Natasha.

"It is about time," She said from his left, causing him to jump as she stepped out of the shadows.

"Geez woman," he frowned at her.

"Revenge is so sweet," Natasha smirked at him. "I heard you had some problems."

"Whatever," Clint brushed her comments aside. "We need to get moving. The weather is only going to get worse," he commented, peeking out from under the ledge to look at the thick grey clouds.

"Agreed, let's go," she took the lead, heading off down the alley. Clint followed, keeping pace with her as they made their way through the maze of alley ways. They had discovered that it let out within feet of the fence that surrounded the back half of the Parliament Building. The plan was to break through the fence, pick off any rear guards, and enter through the back unseen. Once inside they would have to play things by ear, but Clint didn't mind. He loved the suspense.

"That was easy enough," he commented as he pulled out a pair of wire cutters, cutting a crawl space in the fence.

"Just don't let your guard down," she frowned as he shoved the cutters back under a bush.

"Thank you mother," he rolled his eyes, slipping through the hole and crouching behind another bush as he waited for her.

"You are welcome," she glared at him as she joined him. "Hold up," she grabbed his shoulder as he went to step out from behind the bush. "Look up."

"Thanks," Clint said dully as he caught sight of the two guards on the roof. They were watching the fence line, sweeping their light beams across the perimeter.

"Want me to take them out?"

"Too noisy," he pulled two arrows from his quiver. "I'll get them."

"If you hit one the other will sound an alarm before you can hit him," she frowned.

"And if we shoot a gun the whole city will hear. Just trust me this one time," he notched an arrow, the other carefully placed in his other hand. He pulled the string back, carefully aiming and letting it fly. Within a few seconds the second arrow went flying and both found their marks, the men slumping towards the floor and the lights cutting off. "See?"

"Show off," She muttered, scanning the back of the building before jogging across the yard, sticking to the darker shadows. Clint followed her path, keeping an eye on the roof in case any more guards showed up. Once they reached the cement pavalion that led to the wooden doors they stepped, crouching behind a planter. "Now what?"

"Well, we go in."

"Kind of obvious isn't it?"

"Precisely."

"Alright then," she shrugged, following him as they crept up to the wooden doors. "What now?" She tried to handle, finding it locked.

"Hmm," he scanned the back of the building. "Look," he pointed to a small window near the ground.

"A basement?"

"Yeah," he carefully made his way over, peering through the window. All he saw was darkness so he carefully pried the window open, slipping inside. He grunted as he hit a shelf, landing on his butt with a thud.

"Oh so smooth," Natasha commented as she landed beside him, on her feet, and offerd him a hand. Clint just glared at her before pushing himself to his feet, brushing his pants off and pulling a flash light from his pocket. He flicked it on, shining the beam around the small room. The shelves that lined the walls were dusty and undisturbed, aside from the one he had landed on. Most held boxes that probably contained papers, but others had dusty books and yellowing paper.

"Nothing down here, let's keep moving," he placed his bow on his back, pulling out his handgun and heading towards the stairs. Natasha pulled her gun out as well,making sure the safety was off, and followed behind him. "Ready?" He asked, his hand lying on the knob.

Natasha nodded and he turned the knob, pushing the door open. A blast of warm air hit them, stealing the colds power. They found themselves in a long hall way supported by pillars, various paintings and pictures hanging on the wall. Several doors were still blocked by red velvet ropes, dust indicating they hadn't been touched in quite some time. Clint nodded to Natasha before taking a hesitant step into the hall, making his way from pillar to pillar. She followed behind him, keeping an eye on the doors behind them in case someone decided to pay them an unexpected visit.

"Get back here," Natasha hissed, yanking on the back of Clint's vest and jerking him back behind the pillar. She shoved him against the back, pressing her back to his chest as the voices she heard came closer.

"I know I heard something," the voice was young, still cracking. "It came from down here."

"Ay lad, probably just a rat knockin'."

"Better safe than sorry. I don't want to get in trouble again," he whined.

"Our 'friends'," Clint murmured, his breath tickling Natasha's neck.

"Leave them," she frowned, waiting until the footsteps became more distance. As soon as they faded she jerked away from Clint, heading for the next pillar without a word. He shook his head before following her with a sigh. She was obviously annoyed with the situation, but he wasn't totally opposed to the idea of Natasha Romanoff pressed against his chest. Another shake of his head cleared the unwelcomed thoughts and he cast a glance behind them.

"This must lead up into the main building," Clint said as they approached another set of steps. "I'm not so sure we will have as much cover up there."

"Probably not," she agreed, checking behind them one last time before taking the steps. "Let's say we keep our friends busy," she closed the door, locking it behind them. "Two less morons to worry about."

"Fine by me," he chuckled, turning around. They were in another hallway and at the end he spotted a large open room where several rebels were noisily talking and laughing. He heard the clatter of plates and the banging of cups on wood. "Dinner time," he deduced.

"I think there should be an elevator down this hall," Natasha frowned, racking her memory; she had only been in the building once before, years ago, and her memories of the place weren't very clear. "They might have it guarded, but there should be an emergency stair case nearby. When we were watching the place did you notice only a few lights were on upstairs?"

"That's where the Captain will be," Clint finished for her. "Let's stick to this hall then." He followed the wall the opposite direction of the dining area, towards the dimly lit room at the other end. Natasha followed behind him, keeping an eye on the dining hall. If someone raised an alarm they would have more than enough company from that direction.

"Here," Natasha stopped him in front of a heavy metal door. Through a window she could see stairs and the backs of two guards. "Together," she said and soundlessly opened the door. They crept froward until they were each standing behind a guard. Clint nodded to her and in one fluid move they stepped forward, taking out both guards without a sound. Clint let the man slump to the floor and Natasha pushed hers away with a grunt.

They continued up several flights of steps and Clint was surpirsed that Natasha was able to stay ahead of him, despite his best efforts. He was beginning to notice that they were having an unspoken competition when it came to things like this...and so far she was beating him. He had to give her credit; she was one hell of a women. When they reached the stop Clint stopped, making sure his pistol was still functional. They had reached the top floor and it was bound to be heavily guarded with Rebels.

"Ready?" He turned to Natasha.

"As I'll ever be," she frowned, worry gnawing at the back of her mind. If they shot their way through the building they would raise even more alarm and it would take long for backup to arrive. They were going to have to push through and take out their mark, then worry about getting away. She didn't like having a plan, but she didn't have a choice in this one. "Let's do it," she steeled her nerves, pushing the door open and walking into the unknown.


	5. Do or Die

**Chapter 5. Trying hard to stick to 3 chapters per a day in the story-otherwise I end up writing really long chapters and short stories. Please review and thanks for reading!**

"Mason, I told you to stick you your po-" The man was cut off as Clint snapped his neck, shoving him aside and aiming his pistol down the hall. They had nearly walked into the man as the stepped out of the stairwell and into the dimly lit hallways. Lights flickered on and off up and down the hall and he could hear voices in the distance.

"What were you sayin' Mac?" Another Rebel stepped out from a door way and went wide eyed at the sight of the two assassins. He let out a strangled sound before stumbling down the hall. Clint dropped his pistol, yanking his bow out and fitting an arrow within seconds. He let it fly and it sunk into it's mark as the man hit the floor with a muted thud.

"Quieter that way," Clint explained as Natasha gave him an annoyed expression. "Don't worry, I am sure you can shoot someone up," he smirked.

"Very funny Barton. If you'd miss he could have sounded an alarm."

"I don't miss," he frowned at her.

"Someone has an inflated ego."

"Someone has an attitude," he shot back.

"We can argue later," she snapped at him, pushing past him and walking in the direction the man was heading- obviously there was something down there. Clint followed behind her, glaring at her back. He was concluded that she was possibly the most stubborn, hard headed woman in the world. And that was saying something: he knew a lot of hard headed women.

Clint shoved his pistol back into it's holster on his thigh, keeping his bow in hand, an arrow held loosely in his opposite hand. The quarters were cramped, but he could fire several arrows more accurately than he could fire several scattered shots. Natasha continued to lead the way, carefully checking each room they passed. They turned the corner and she stopped short and he nearly plowed into her back.

"What-" She cut him off, clamping a hand over his mouth. Four men stood in the hall, their backs turned to the two agents as they laughed. Clint notched two arrows at once, turning his bow side ways and angling the arrows apart. Natasha shook her head, glaring at him, but he glared back before letting them fly. The two arrows found their mark, sinking deep into the back of each man and they fell to the floor.

"What the hell?" Another man spun around and Natasha planted a bullet in his skull before taking out the man next to him.

"Well, they know we are here now," Clint muttered as he took off down the hall. Natasha took off after him, glaring at him the entire time.

"If you are trying to show off I am not impressed."

"I am doing my job," he snapped at her, ending the conversation as the ran down the hall. They reached the end where two heavy wooden doors were closed, previously guarded by two men who Clint had quickly eliminated. Clint kicked them open effortlessly and they charged into the room, guns ready. They expected a small army but instead found nothing but an empty room. The smell of blood and rotting flesh was strong and Clint frowned as he continued across the room to the neck door.

Natasha kicked it open and they found themselves in a smaller room, the smell almost making Natasha choke. An older man sat in the middle of the room, hunched over papers spread across the desk. He had blood smeared all over his clothes and when we stood up to turn around his eyes held a crazy light. There was a gun on each hip but he made no move the draw them.

"Ah, more Americans, I assume?" He raised an eyebrow. "Your brothers...they have failed miserably," he laughed, looking towards the corner. Several dead marines were slumped against the wall, mutilated beyond recognition. "It is amazing, how one can endure so much pain yet remain loyal to their country."

"You bastard," Clint spat.

"I am merely doing my job. Rest assured- they refused to say anything," he shrugged. "I assume you are here to kill me, then?"

"You are awfully calm about it."

"I knew I would die eventually- I await death. It is but another adventure. You can kill me, but another will rise to replace me. When we are ready, America will be reduced to a nuclear waste land," he laughed.

"Where are the weapon," Clint demanded, aiming an arrow at his head.

"Straight to the point then? You don't want to hear about our plans?" he chuckled. "Unfortunately I don't think I can tell you that without making a-" He was cut short as Natasha shot him in the forehead and he fell to the floor. Clint spun around, glaring at her.

"What in the hell was that?" He demanded.

"We don't have time to stand here and talk to him all day!"

"We could have found out something about the weapons!" He snapped at her. "Why are you so damn trigger happy?"

"I was doing my job," she quoted his earlier statement.

"Our job is also finding those nuclear weapons Romanoff! That Castle is huge! We aren't going to have all day to search it- he could have been our ticket to success."

"And we could have half an army running up our asses in a few minutes. We need to get moving. Besides, there was no promise he would talk."

"You are impossible!"

"You are insufferable!" She shoved him, her hand twitching as she thought about punching him.

"You are reckless."

"Your ego is bigger than your head!"

"You are crazy!"

"Maybe I am," she glared at him. "Got a problem with it? Take it up with my gun," she shoved it against his stomach, getting in his face. "I am not taking any bull from you Barton. I am not your lap dog."

"If you were my dog I'd lock you in a closet," he shot back. "I am not going to be pushed around by some woman who thinks she is hot stuff!"

"And you think you are Apollo or something, Man! How many times have I saved your ass since we left the US? And now you want to act like I am the bad guy."

"Only because you throw me off my game!" He retorted. "This isn't going to work," he pushed her away.

"You are right, it isn't," she frowned at him. "Just get out of here."

"You are coming with me. I am not going to have Fury chew me out for something you did."

"No, I am not," she turned on her heel, starting back down the hall.

"Let her get herself killed!" Clint threw his hands in the air before heading for the window. He threw it opened and secured a rope before repelling down the side of the building. As soon as his feet touched the ground he ran for the road, ignoring the shots coming from the building. He hit the streets, taking any alley ways he could find just in case someone was following. The last thing he needed was for some rebel to follow him and see where they were staying. His thoughts temporarily drifted to Natasha as he ran and he worried that she might be in trouble, but he pushed the aside. She obviously didn't want or need his help and he was fine with that...or at least he thought he was.

. . . . .

Clint frowned from his place in a tree, looking at the Basilica with distaste. He had went back to the hotel for the night, planning to get some sleep and deal with Natasha in the morning. But he had woken up to an empty hotel room and he knew something was wrong: She might hate him, but she wouldn't just leave the mission unfinished and she definitely wouldn't leave her stuff behind. He had hit the streets early in the morning and found exactly what he was looking for: A young rebel guarding a side street, all alone. After extreme negotiations Clint learned that Natasha had been captured and was being held in the Basilica.

He didn't like going in without a plan or any more scouting, but he didn't have a choice. She could hate him until the day she died, but they were partners at this point and he wasn't going to just leave her. Not to mentioned she had saved him butt and he owed her- he wasn't a man to leave his debts unpaid. With a sigh he jumped out of the tree, landing on his feet and heading straight towards the road block. He had left his bow at the hotel, bringing only his pistol. He wasn't in the mood for being stealthy. He just wanted to get the job done.

"No Entry-" Clint didn't give the man a chance to finish as he shot him, continuing up the drive way and towards the Basilica. He shot the two men that were guarding the doors before throwing them open, walking straight inside. He was going to save Natasha's ass, kill the bastard that help plan all this and get them out of here, or he was going to die trying. It was do or die time.


	6. Compromised

**Chapter 6.  
**

"I said get off of me," Natasha kicked out with her feet, fighting the approaching man off. He grunted as her foot made contact with his stomach but he kept coming at her, still leering. They had been interrogating her for what seemed like days, trying to get her to give up Clint's location. The longer she remained silent the harder the blows had become and now she had several cuts across her face and arms. The man tried to press a kiss to her lips, the smell of liquor and fish making her stomach turn. She kicked out harder, making him stumble and he frowned.

"Playing hard to get huh?" He smirked at her, reaching into his pocket and flicking open a small knife.

Natasha struggled against the ropes, praying that there might be a fault in the knot. But they had secured her hands behind her back and tied her to a chair. No matter how much she wiggled the ropes just wouldn't give. Dread began to gnaw at her stomach as she watched the man approach her again. Never before had she worried about being captured- she had never been in a situation where there was absolutely no way out. But now she was facing rape and more torture, all because she lost her temper with Clint. She swallowed hard, wishing she had a way out, wishing there was a way she could tell him sorry. Knowing him he'd probably beat himself up over all this, thinking it was hit fault.

"Aw, don't do that," the man backhanded her as she kicked out at his groin.

"I'll kill you," Natasha promised, still struggling. She wasn't go to go down without a fight.

"Hmm, wasn't that what you were supposed to do in the first place? I heard you got my friend...did you honestly think you could take me out? I am untouchable. I am a monster!"

"Go to hell," she spat in his face.

"Alright, have it your way. Let's have some fun sweetheart." He laughed as he pressed the knife against her arm, watching her squirm.

.

.

Clint stepped through the doors surprised at the silence that greeted him. He scanned the pews and the front of the basilica. Normally he would be impressed by the structure, but he was pissed and ready to get out already. He scratched the back of his neck and turned for the hallway when a bullet flew past his head. He ran for cover and ducked behind a pew as several more bullets flew past him. He peeked over the edge and ducked as another volley of bullets rained around him. He chanced a few quick shots in the general direction of his shooters, but they embedded themselves in walls and wooden pews.

"Give it up and come on out!" Someone yelled. That was all he needed to hear and he fired several more shots. A grunt informed him he had found his mark, but bullets continued to fly through the air, men screaming back and forth to each other as they tried to move their injured man. Clint took their shock as a chance to shoot down several more and he ran for the cover of a narrow hallway. He slammed the door behind him, dragging a chair under the handle to help brace it. Men pounded on the outside but the door held, the chair jammed between the handle and the floor.

"Now what," he said aloud to himself, frowning as he began to notice the pain in his arm. A bullet had grazed his bicep leaving an angry red line that was oozing blood. "Dammit," he cursed, ignoring it as he started off down the hall, putting another clip into his pistol. He checked several doors as he passed them and ignored the empty confession and storage rooms. He heard the door start to splinter from down the hall and he frantically looked around before yanking the nearest door open, slipping inside and shutting it.

Darkness surrounded him and pulled a flash light from the back on his back, flipping it on and shining the beam around. The room was completely empty, covered in dust. There were footprints in the dust that led to the center of the room then stopped. He frowned, shining the light around the walls and floor as the throbbing in his arm increased. He thought about slipping back out and trying another door, but then he heard a muffled scream from...below?

Clint frowned as he crouched down, looking at the floor. He noticed the boards were different in the middle of the floor and he ran his hand along them before tapping. It was hallow. He smirked before using the edge of his knife to pry it open, shoving it aside. He found an old ladder than had been used recently and he could heard laughing below him, then another muffled scream. He didn't hesitate before dropping down the hole, gun in one hand, knife in the other. He took off down the hall at a sprint towards the directions of the sounds, his fury growing with every throaty chuckle he heard. He reached another dark hall and he realized he was in the catacombs. A shiver ran down his back but then he spotted a slant of light under a door.

Clint ran to the door and braced himself as he kicked it open, not sure what he was about to see. Light flooded the hall and the sight before him made him feel sick at his stomach. Natasha was bound and gagged on the floor, a chair tipped over in the corner. Most of her clothes had been torn away and her face and arms were covered in scratches. There were several cuts on her chest and legs and blood was beginning to pool around her.

"So the tramps lap dog comes to save her...we were just having us a little fun, _agent_." He mocked Clint.

"I am going to kill you," he said in a calm voice, anger coursing through his veins. Not only was this man a target, now he was a target of personal rage. No one messed with another agent.

"By all means, go ahead. Be a coward and hide behind your gun," the man sighed. "All of you are the same."

"I wouldn't give you the pleasure of dying quick," Clint tossed his gun aside, ignoring the muffled complaints from Natasha. He tightened his grip on the knife as the man approached. Hand-to-hand was one thing, but knife fights were different; in a fight a punch could be recovered from. In a knife fight one slip could cost you your life.

"This was your mistake boy," the man sneered at him, lunging forward and wildly slashing the knife at Clint. He barely had time to jump out of the way, the knife missing his shoulder by mere inches. "Aye, stop dancing around!" The man barked, advancing on Clint, who was slowly backing away, waiting for a good chance. The man took another wild stab at him and Clint stepped inside his guard, thrusting the short thick knife into his ribs. The man let out a wild cry as Clint shoved him away, knocking the knife from his hand. He threw his own knife down and advanced on the man.

"Let's see what it feels like to be beat," Clint balled his fist, ready to serve justice.

.

.

Clint wiped the blood from his hands on his pants, using his forearm to wipe the sweat from his brow. His arm was throbbing and blood trickled down his arm and off the tips of his fingers. He picked up his knife and wiped it on his pants before turning to Natasha, cutting the ropes from her arms and legs. She yanked the gag from her mouth before tackling him in a spontaneous hug, burying her face against his chest to hide her tears. She had never felt more vulnerable and afraid than she had tonight. And she had never been happier to see anyone in her entire life.

"Hey, it's ok," he nearly stumbled when she had collided with me. "Are you ok?"

Natasha just nodded against his chest, trying to find her voice, which seemed to have run away from her. They stood together in the middle of the bloody room, in the catacombs under the Basilica, and Clint just held her, waiting for her brain to process everything and recover. She finally swallowed and took a breath, still not looking at him.

"You came back for me," she mumbled, her voice hoarse.

"Of course I did," he frowned. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because I was a complete horses ass."

"And I wasn't?" He frowned. "I wouldn't have just left you. Or anyone for that matter."

"You're a better person than I am," she said, punctuating the sentence with a hiccup.

"Right," he snorted. "What in the world makes you say that?"

"Because I probably wouldn't have come back."

"You would've."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because, believe it or not, I see right through the tough girl act. It is ok to be human, Tasha." The nickname slipped off his tongue naturally and she just nodded against his chest again. "Here," he stepped away from her, pulling his vest off then the black t-shirt underneath.

"Oh god, you are bleeding," she frowned as he pulled her hand away from his bicep and found it covered in blood.

"I'll be fine for a while longer," he shrugged. Clint waited while she pulled the shirt over her head and gathered her guns, composing herself the best she could. He could tell she was still shaken up- he knew what it was like to be compromised like that. "Let's get out of here, ok?"

Natasha nodded, sticking close to him as he led her back into the catacombs. He began looking for an alternate way out, leaving her to her thoughts. She tried to block out the painful memories, but she couldn't help but wonder why he would come back after what she had said. She had wanted to hate him, wanted to keep him away, but through his loyalty, humor and personality he had slipped inside her guard. With a start Natasha stopped dead in her tracks, realizing she was falling for him. But that couldn't be possible...she didn't have those feelings inside her.

"What's up? Are you ok?" Clint frowned.

"Uh, yeah," she mentally shook herself before catching up to him. "Sorry."

"It's fine," he shined the light around and let out a sigh of relief as he caught sight of another ladder. "Wait here and I'll see where it goes." She started to make a sound of protest but he shook his head. "I'll be right back, promise."

"Fine," she waited at the base of the ladder as he climbed. Clint pushed the heavy lid aside and light beamed down through the hole, the sounds of cars roaring overhead.

"This let's out close to the hotel," he called down. "Come on."

Natasha made her way up the ladder and onto the warm pavement, collapsing on the side walk. Everyone within sight stopped to stare at the two bloody people who had just crawled out of a manhole and onto the streets. Natasha felt her head spin as the sounds of the city seemed to grow louder and she groaned, closing her eyes. She tried to open them, then everything went black as she slumped against the street.

Clint frowned before replacing the hole to the lid and carefully picking Natasha up, carrying her bridle style. He readjusted his bag before beginning the short walk to the hotel. He ignored the throbbing and stinging in his arm as his muscles strained and he fought the woozy feeling in his stomach. He needed to get Natasha patched up, then he could worry about himself. They were both tore up pretty bad, but two of their targets were eliminated and they were still alive...for now.


	7. Smile

**Chapter 7...whew. Last one for today! Thanks for reading so far and drop a review :D More coming this week. This chapter is probably a little OOC, but we need some fluff after all that serious stuff. There will be a steamy scene here in a few chapters, so be warned.  
**

Clint groaned as he carefully laid Natasha on the couch, his hurt arm protesting with the downward movement. He pulled a blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over her before heading towards the bathroom, the smell of blood becoming too much to handle. He stripped down, leaving his clothes in a pile before stepping into the shower, turning the water on as hot as it would go.

"Oh man," he moaned as the hot water hit his tense muscles and they slowly began to relax. After scrubbing the blood from his hair and body he placed his palms on the wall, leaning forward and letting the hot water run over his head and back as he closed his eyes. Images from the Basilica flashed through his mind and he frowned, grinding his teeth together. The man had got what he deserved: Clint had roughed him up then shot him. It wasn't like he tortured him or anything, but he had lost his temper and that bugged him. It had been a long time since he felt that out of control and what bugged him most was that it was because of Natasha. Despite her saying she hated him and the fact that it was against protocol the feeling for her kept surfacing, buzzing around in his head like an angry bee. The way she had reacted in the Catacombs had given him hope, but part of his brain argued that she was in shock. Maybe it was time to tel her truth, about why he sparred her life, why he came back for her...

Clint finally noticed that the water had long ago turned icy and he shivered as he turned the water off, stepping out of the shower. He wrapped a towel around his waist, raking another through his hair as he starred at himself in the mirror. Aside from the angry red line on his arm he had several red lines on his face and a bruise on his ribs where he had been kicked. Stubble was visible on his chin, his eyes heavy with exhaustion and the memories of the days events.

"I'll shave tomorrow," he muttered, pulling on a clean shirt and a pair sweat pants. He moved the pile of clothes into the dirty clothes basket, lying the towels on top before heading back into the living room. Natasha was now leaning against the arm of the couch, her legs stretched out and her eyes trained on her lap. "Hey," Clint said in a gentle tone as she pulled her legs against her body, wrapping her arms around her legs. Clint crouched down beside her, lying the medical supplies out on the coffee table.

"Hey," she said just loud enough for him to hear before sitting up, facing him with a frown. "What's all that?"

"We need to get those cuts cleaned up before they get infected."

"I'm not a baby."

"Come on Tasha, just let me do it," he said softly.

Natasha shivered at the sentence but obliged, placing her elbow on her knee and leaning her cheek against her hand as he began dabbing at the multiple cuts on her face. She winced as one cut stung more than the others and Clint frowned. "Sorry."

"Not your fault," she remained still as until he finished then pulled away from his touch with a sigh, her heart pounding in her ears. "Thanks, Clint."

"No thanks needed," he shrugged, returning the items to the kit and sitting on the couch beside her with a sigh, stretching his good arm across the back of the couch. They sat there in silence for several minutes before Natasha hesitantly leaned against his side, placing her head on his shoulder. This wasn't the kind of thing she did on a daily basis, this was personal and the feelings were real- it felt odd and she wasn't sure what to think.

"Actually, there is. You came back for me... I'd be dead if it wasn't for you."

"I, uh," he searched for words. "You're welcome."

"Sorry for being such an ass."

"You and me both," he chuckled. He finally took a deep breath and shifted so he could look at her. "I've realized we might not make it out of this one alive. At least not both of us, so I wanted to answer your question, from the bridge."

"You don't have to," She frowned.

"I want to..I think." He scratched the back of his neck and Natasha inwardly smirked: he was like an awkward teenager. "I, uh, received the job after you had taken out half of the Russian Mafia. Fury had looked into the situation and decided you were a possible threat to us. He called me in, because I was the best he had at the time."

"At the time?"

"You give me a run for my money," he admitted with a smile. "Anyways, I wasn't to thrilled about the idea of trying to track down another assassin, let alone you. I had heard about your previous work. I tried to tell Fury you'd make one hell of an agent, but he wasn't open to the idea of foreigners working in one of America's top security facilities...especially one who was an expert at stealth and killing. I took a team of four men with me and well, you know the rest- you left them tied up and left me stumped, until I caught a break."

"And what was that?" Natasha titled her head.

"I realized you were the one going after me. So I started waiting...I got reckless with my work and let things seem to fall apart. That's when you went into that building and you thought you had me...but I had you. The entire time Fury was screaming in my air to take the shot, but I couldn't. It was the first time I had seen you face to face and I was kind of stunned. You don't see a pretty face like that every day. But something in your eyes...I couldn't do it. It was the first time I have ever felt guilty over taking a targets life. I felt like a monster. I couldn't do it."

"So instead you talked me into coming back with you," she finished, letting his statement sink in. "Guess I really do owe you my life huh?"

"Not really. You've saved my butt a few times already," he chuckled.

"How come you never came back after they signed me on?"

"I kept an eye on you from afar," he admitted, "I just assumed you hated me."

"I tried to...but it never really worked. Even back at the Parliament Building I felt sorry as soon as I took off down the hall, but it was to late them."

"Good to know."

"Hmm?"

"I wouldn't want you to hate me," he looked down at her with a smile.

"I don't think I could hate you," she held his gaze, her brain battling her heart. She had her own set of rules and this was breaking half of them, but did she really care anymore? She had felt connected to him the first time she saw him and after spending a few days with him she felt like she had known him forever.

"And why is that?" He kept his eyes on hers, his heart racing.

"I think you already know," she said in a mere whisper before hesitantly bringing her lips to his, testing the waters. Clint remained still, waiting for her to decide what she wanted and ignored the blood pounding in his ears. After a moment her arms slid around his neck, and Clint took that as the go ahead to kiss her back. Natasha's mouth worked on his and he decided to let her lead the kiss- there was no point in trying to screw something up shivered as her tongue grazed his lip and he opened his lips, their mouth melting together as one.

When she pulled away for air Clint raised an eyebrow and she frowned at him. "What?"

"You could smile, you know."

"What's so special about me smiling?"

"I've never seen it."

"Not happening."

"Please?" He titled his head, grinning at her. "Can't kiss me again until you smile."

"Then you won't be getting kissed again," she smirked before standing up.

"Nuh huh," he grabbed her around the waist, pulling her back to his last. "Not getting out of it that easy," he smirked before tickling her sides. He was surprised when she actually laughed and started squirming, trying to get away from him.

"Let me go Barton," she said breathlessly. "You aren't a teenager."

"I can act like it," he gave her a crooked grin. He was stunned when she actually smiled back at him, reaching up to give him another kiss. "Better than I imagined," he said when she pulled away.

"Hmm?" She raised an eyebrow.

"You're gorgeous when you smile," he dropped a kiss to her neck, his hands resting on her waist. Natasha rolled her eyes, swatting him on the arm.

"Would you knock it off."

"I am beginning to think you just like to hit me."

"Maybe so," she grinned at him.

"My abuse amuses you then?" He raised an eyebrow.

"You poor baby," she poked her lower lip out.

"A smile, a kiss, and a sense of humor all in one day. Is this an indirect way of killing me?"

"Yes, Barton, I can't believe you figured me out," she rolled her eyes before leaning back against his chest. "Thanks."

"For?"

"All this...I can't remember the last time I've actually laughed or smiled."

"My pleasure," he pressed another kiss to her neck. "But don't thank me yet. We still have two more targets to hit. I tend to be a magnet for trouble."

"You and me both," she sighed.

"Why don't you go take a shower and we can watch a movie?"

"Trying to say I stink?"

"No," he fumbled for a recovery and she grinned.

"Kidding, Clint..."

"You enjoy tormenting me."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," she smiled before heading towards the bathroom, leaving him sitting on the couch with a goofy grin.


	8. The Morning After

**Chapter 8. Thanks for the reviews and reads so far, keep it up! Sorry for the delay in chapters- once again I am very busy with horse stuff. I apologize for the slower, shorter chapter. The next one will be a little more action packed and longer :P  
**

"You saved me," Natasha mused as she accepted Clint's hand and he pulled her to her feet. She stretched her stiff arms before pushing him against the stone wall, pinning him there. "Looks like I owe you."

"I wouldn't worry about it," Clint forced a nervous chuckle- the way she was looking at him unnerved him. "Are you alright?"

"I am fine now," she whispered, leaning forward to capture his mouth in a kiss. He kissed her back, not questioning her actions as her arms slid around his neck. The fact that there was a dead body in the corner seemed to have been forgotten as they kissed for several minutes, Clint's hands roaming across her body. Natasha made a noise as his hands found a sensitive spot on her waist and he smirked, deepening the kiss. Their tongues battled for dominance and Natasha used her skills to her advantage.

"Fury...would...kill us," Clint managed against her mouth, his hands now resting on her waist.

"What Fury doesn't know doesn't hurt him," she pulled away with a smirk, her hands planted on his chest. "Besides, I owe you."

"Natasha," he began.

"Don't," she laid a hand over his mouth before using her free hand to unbuckle his vest, her eyes on his the entire time. She pushed it away from his body and it dropped to the floor with a thud, next to his bow and quiver. If this was the kind of thanks he got for saving her life, he wasn't going to complain. As a matter of fact, he might have to save her butt more often. "Someone likes all the attention," she practically purred against his lips as she ground against, causing him to groan.

"Is it that obvious?" He chuckled as she grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling the useless item off his body and tossing it aside.

Natasha's hands dropped to his belt and he closed his eyes, feeling like he was in a dream. Clint had always felt something for her, but never had he thought they would be acting on it. She undid the belt and frowned as his phone began beeping in his pocket. He groaned in mental agony, dropping his head to his palms. Of all the times for his cell phone to start ringing. He tried to ignore it, but it kept on. When he looked up again Natasha was heading for the door, leaving a half dressed Clint in the middle of the tomb. His phone started beeping again and he reached for it, ready to kill the person who was ruining his moment.

.

.

Clint groaned as the digital clock beside the bed started beeping, informing him it was time to get up. He rolled onto his stomach, pulling the blanket over his head as he fumbled his hand around on the table, trying to find the disturbance. His hand finally found the clock and he slammed the snooze button, knocking the clock to the floor in the process. He winced as he tried to move- His upper arm felt like it was on fire and every muscle in his body ached after yesterday's events. At this point he was ready to take a day off and just sleep. All of a sudden his brain seemed to wake up and he recalled the dream he just had. He bolted upright, hitting his head in the process and banging the headboard against the wall.

"Son of a-" He cursed, his hand flying to his head as he vision swam. What in the world had possessed his brain to come up with a dream like that? Then he remembered yesterday and the kiss. "Damn," he fell back against the matress with another groan, causing the headboard to pop again.

"What ARE you doing in here?" Natasha demanded, pushing the door open. She had almost managed to fall back asleep when she heard things crashing around inside the room. Clint practically hissed as light flooded the room and he yanked the blanket over his head.

"Turn off the lights!"

"Unfortunately I do not have the power to turn off the sun," she smirked, crossing the room to pull the blanket away from him. "Rise and shine your highness."

"Ten more minutes," Clint pleaded with her,pulling the blanket back and bunching it up in his lap. He needed time to sort out his thoughts and forget that dream, otherwise it was going to be an interesting morning, especially if she yanked the entire blanket away.

"Whatever, bedhead," she shrugged. "Might want to shower," she noted that his hair stood up in cowlicks in several places.

Natasha sighed before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her and crossing the living room to the balcony. She slid the giant glass door open, stepping out into the crisp morning air and taking a deep breath. She had woken up way earlier than intended, her thoughts running wild. Kissing Clint had went against everything she had ever taught herself- love got you killed. Being close to people was a big no no. But she knew that she couldn't stay away from him, especially not after yesterday. From the first time she had saw him there had been a connection between them, she just wasn't able to identify it at the time.

She sighed as she heard the shower start in the bathroom so she went back inside, shutting the door behind her. Looking around the living room she grabbed her phone, heading for the kitchen as her stomach growled. She hadn't ate yet, despite the fact that she had been up for hours. "What to eat," she wondered allowed, peering into the large fridge for several minutes. Since she was too tired to cook she grabbed a slice of left over pizza, tossing it onto a plate and into the microwave. Natasha leaned against the counter, closing her eyes as her thoughts continued to wonder.

"Boo," Clint said right as the timer on the microwave went off. Natasha opened her eyes to glare at him, turning around to remove her breakfast. Clint just chuckled before continuing to run the small towel through his hair, tossing it onto the counter when he was finished.

"Do you always run around in the kitchen without a shirt on?" She cocked an eyebrow, discretely running her eyes over his sculpted torso.

"Of course. On Friday nights I do pole dancing on the table," he tossed over his shoulder as he rummaged around in the fridge, trying to find something that appealed to him.

"I'd like to see that," Natasha rolled her eyes,wondering how he could act so...normal after yesterday. There was no way he was in better control of his emotions than she was- just the thought made her want to slug him.

"Sorry, only on Fridays. Then I charge a twenty five dollar show fee."

"That is highway robbery."

"Yep,the good stuff cost more," he smirked at her before pulling out some left over pizza, sitting across from her.

"Oh, gross."

"What?"

"You aren't even going to heat that up?"

"Nope," He gave her a big grin before taking a huge bite, slowly chewing. Natasha rolled her eyes before turning away from him, checking the messages on her phone. Most where from Fury, demanding updates. She deleted those before moving on to the ones from Coulson, trying to befriend her. Fury had informed her that he would soon be taking over her mission deployments. In all honestly she liked Phil- he was a good guy who was always willing to help. She replied to one of his questions before tossing her phone back on the table, turning around the find Clint starring at her.

"What?" Natasha cocked an eyebrow.

"So?"

"So what?"

"About yesterday..."

"What about it?" She picked at the edge of her nails,not sure where the conversation was heading.

"That's a good question," he finally said after swallowing. "I, uh, don't want you to feel like you had to do that. Like you owed me or something."

"Barton, do I look like the kind of person who'd let someone else boss them around?" She tilted her head.

"No," Clint scratched the back of his neck. Natasha inwardly smirked, noticing that was one of the little habits he did when he was nervous. "I just...I don't know."

"I actually understand what you mean," she shrugged. "Let's just see where it takes us."

"I think I'd like that," he smiled.

"I'm sure you would. But we also have work to do. We need to stake out the Gresham Palace today, which is going to be a pain. They know our names, they know we are here, and they know who we are. Patrols all over the place are going to be keeping an eye out for us. I can almost promise you the defense has been kicked up a notch or two at the Palace and Castle."

"I wouldn't bet against you on that," Clint sighed. "We are also going to need a car- they aren't exactly within walking distance of here."

"Got any ideas?"

"A few," he smirked. "None that involve laying low and staying out of trouble."

"My favorite kind," she smiled at him. "Let's get ready, then we can discuss your plans that will piss Fury off."

"That is my second favorite activity," he chuckled as he tossed his crust into the trash can, leaning against the counter as Natasha rinsed the plate off.

"And what would your first favorite be?" She asked over her shoulder.

"This," he bent around her to steal a kiss before heading towards his room. Natasha sighed and shook her head but couldn't help smiling. They were stuck in the middle of a life and death situation and yet he still was calm and relaxed. She could definitely get used to working with a partner. Correction, she could definitely get used to working with Barton. The thought made her smirk as she put up the plate and she wondered what Fury would have to say about all this when they returned- she was willing to bet he would have a fit and that would make it even more worth it.

With a yawn she grabbed her bag and headed towards the bathroom, curious to see what the day would have in store for them. No doubt it would be trouble and fighting, but that didn't bug her. So far Budapest was summing up to be a mission she'd never forget.


End file.
